How to Use Your Lips
by CrayonQueen18
Summary: In which a thirteen year-old Lucius Malfoy ponders and explains the use of lips. One-Shot


_**A/N: **__If you read this in hopes to see some Lucius/Hat shippyness, I applaud you for your open-mindedness and talent for seeing potential in even the oddest of pairings. This idea came to me as my sister and I sat on my bed joking around. I just love Saturdays, because they're breeding ground for just the right amount of craziness. Admittedly, I wrote this originally to pull a prank on my sister, whom I love dearly. So this story is dedicated to her (as so many are. For more dedications to her, red "Couldn't Have Done it Without You"). I, for the record, don't own Lucius Malfoy, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or the Hat itself. They are, and always will be property of JK Rowling. I do, however own lips. Happy reading!!_

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The Great Hall had fallen to a respectful silence as the Sorting Hat was placed on the old wooden stool. It sang its song, and everyone listened intently. Everyone, that is, except Lucius Malfoy. He was staring, concentrating on the table as he picked away at a carving. _E & C forever _it said. Lucius didn't know who these people were, he didn't very much care. Just like how he didn't care about who was getting sorted at the moment. He clapped when his table clapped as an eleven year old boy or girl joined the almost faceless sea of black, green, and silver.

After a few moments that seemed to drag out into a lifetime he'd never get back, he grew bored with absentmindedly chipping away at the wooden carving and looked up at the Sorting Hat. A talking hat. Growing up in a purely magical world, he was used to inanimate objects coming to life. But a hat? Which Founder thought that one up? Certainly not Slytherin. Things such as hats were obviously inapplicable to placing students into houses. Certainly it wasn't not Ravenclaw. Where was the practicality in a talking hat? Lucius couldn't imagine it being Gryffindor, even. Lucius always pictured him as the type of man who wanted the students to fight a troll to get into a house. It had to be Hufflepuff then. She seemed like the kind of woman to enchant a piece of headwear because it was cute. Did she collect glass frog figurines, too?

He watched the Sorting Hat's lips move, not hearing, or caring what came out of his mouth. All the hat did was sort people? Did the Hat say anything else other than "Slytherin!" or "Better be Ravenclaw!"? Did the Hat used those lips to perhaps protest against being put up until next year, asking Dumbledore if he could please, just this once be allowed to stay out? Did he use those lips to whine at McGonagall, asking her to allow some magical quill write the student's names into a house or to even consider Gryffindor's idea of battling a troll? Lucius supposed not. The Hat seemed rather mild-mannered and dutiful.

Perhaps the old dish-rag of hat used those lips to eat. Certainly if he could talk, he could eat. And if he could talk, could he breathe? Did he perhaps use them to whistle? If he could sing, he could whistle. Did his lips ever chapped from all that talking? Did he need ChapStick ever? Did they even make ChapStick for hats?

Or maybe—Lucius was shocked that the thought even entered his head—the Hat could've even used those lips to kiss. Did hats fall in love? Did the Sorting Hat have a secret lover no one knew about? Did he have a wife, even?

It was then that Lucius realized how unfair he was being, calling the Hat a 'he'. It could've been a 'she'. Maybe it was a lady hat who wore lipstick. Maybe it wasn't a lady hat wore lipstick. Maybe he didn't have a wife. Maybe it was scarf of sexual preference he went home to every night. And if so, did the scarf have lips? Hufflepuff must've enchanted a companion for the Hat so those lonely days of being up on a dusty shelf didn't get too lonely.

All these thoughts crossed his thirteen year-old mind as Zigfield was sorted into Gryffindor and the hat was put up. He watched it become lifeless once more as McGonagall carried it off. _Have a nice rest, my friend _he told it as it passed his table. And he rose to follow his housemates to the common room.


End file.
